


Fire

by All_and_Sundry



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: F/M, I was told to do a limo so I did a limo, Post-Canon, Trustshipping - Freeform, enjoy the ride you heathens, it's the gift that kept on giving, the rest I don't know, written for a friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_and_Sundry/pseuds/All_and_Sundry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hardly," she spoke quietly. "And I would thank you not to criticize what, to use your words, 'gets me excited'..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ignite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustAWritingAmateur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWritingAmateur/gifts).



It hadn't been serious.

Just something to amuse Marik.

Liquor and ink pens went surprisingly well together. Well, if not for the last address she'd penned.

Head pounding, fingers grasping at the blinds the next morning, she'd regretted sending it all together and prayed that, with any luck, it would join the rest of the world's letters somewhere in the yawning abyss of "lost".

She was unlucky in mail and in bra choices evidently…

The strap slipped off her shoulder for the third time but best to leave it. He'd call it fidgeting.

Nervous fidgeting.

" _Nervous?"_

" _I hardly have a reason to be now."_

The reason was sitting but a foot away, phone in one hand, glass in another where slick cubes clinked of their own volition whenever the car rolled over a slight bump.

He held the grace of a priest somehow, in all black. Customary chunks of metal and straps and all had been exchanged for a trim coat of sorts, falling open around now-crossed legs. The prominences of its expense was a silver line of buttons down his chest ending at the top of his pants. Leather, naturally.

"Thirsty?"

Her throat wouldn't allow for another lie and clearing it, she replied. "You don't have to go to any trouble."

"It's no trouble." His tone smoothed over any thought of polite objection.

The limousine's interior was dark. Tight leather stitching stretched up one side to a dark, closed window separating them and the driver. On the other side was a short counter he was busy with now, chimes of glass and ice telling.

The carpet under her heels was likely more expensive than she cared to know and above was a sight: shattered mirror in a long mosaic, passing streetlights casting rhythmic light like the sun on waves.

Like the world was upside down.

Where she bore no great love for posh gatherings, she'd found she lost track of time for once, the game of words and masques brought to life in a way she'd never quite seen before. Somehow it had gone from stiff conversation and unpronounceable bits to eat to whispers and smooth words, eyes on every gesture or the lack of them. No one was ever too honest but some more than others and it was thrilling to hear the sordid details he worked out of people.

As easily as symphonies worked from strings in the hands of a master.

And to think he'd made it a point to show it all to her.

He had been in perfect form that night. Sweeping about the space as easily as if he owned it. Conversing each time engaged. And all never too far from her.

It was a wonder then how long her colleagues had waited for a chance to drag her aside.

" _Well done, Miss Ishtar."_

" _Thank you. Though I'm afraid it is nothing more than a date."_

More than once, he'd caught her eyes in the midst of all his stalking about like some winged thing, aerial limbs outstretched to show all the colours hidden underneath. Granted, if that had been the purpose then it hadn't been ineffective...

He cleared his throat and offered a glass half-filled with a kind of deep red.

Hands brushed as she took it and noticed a bit of stitching dotting his gloves, if they could be called that anyway what with the way the fabric cut across his palms.

"Thank you."

Glass lifted to her lips, she tasted rich pomegranate perched atop the bite of alcohol.

The low hum of the car itself and others passing filled the silence.

His attention returned to his phone and hers to keeping still another moment. In the next she gave up, tugged her bra strap up her shoulder, and lay her purse aside.

"Kaiba," she ventured quietly. When he failed to respond entirely, she tried again. "Seto."

The phone screen resting over his knee went black.

"Before the night wears on any longer, I'd like to thank you for accepting my invitation."

He downed the rest of his glass.

"It's good publicity."

Her hands clasped tight in her lap.

How reasonable was. Now. All evening. More than reasonable but description here wasn't a preferable avenue of thought. Perhaps the credit was undue...

"Pardon my asking but, how many have you had tonight?"

"Mm?" he murmured in the midst of a sip from a fresh topoff.

"Drinks, I mean."

"At the museum or afterwards?"

"I see."

Evidently he held his alcohol quite well.

"Did you…" he turned nearer, knee bumping hers as he did, "enjoy yourself tonight?"

She found him looking at her.

At her lips.

Then the rest of her. At thighs half covered in emerald taffeta. Hands wrapped around glass.

Condensation and words slipped between her fingers. All but two.

"Of course."

Of course she'd had thoughts before. These thoughts. About him. He was intelligent… powerful… too many more besides. What she'd taken for lingering glances both of years before and of hours tonight had long been written off as misjudgements.

There was nothing to judge now.

He'd made himself clear.

It was time she did the same.

"Do you attend these sorts of events often?" she asked.

"Over-decorated parties, yes. Museum exhibitions, no."

He hadn't quite moved away from her but nor would she ask him to.

"They're little different from one another."

"If you say so," he said it in a way that almost dared her to detail.

"The difference here I suppose would be setting. Finery and all in great houses of history…"

Just like that, nerves were uncoiling and something else curling in to fill the empty space.

A notably loud chink of ice broke her reverie.

"This stuff is  _honestly_ what gets you excited," he sighed and set his glass aside.

In a manner of speaking...

"Yes."

Where nerves left empty grooves, something great and quivering had begun to seep in.

Her glass made a small thud on the counter near his.

"Antiquity happens to be my interest and you have your own, respectively. Am I not allowed to be excited about what interests me?"

"I never said you weren't."

"You did imply something to that effect."

The both of them were reaching. For debate. Something. Anything familiar even while it was all disappearing.

"You're putting words in my mouth."

"Hardly," she spoke quietly. "And I would thank you not to criticize what, to use your words, 'gets me excited'..."

Words trailed as did his fingertips across her skin, black fabric smoothing over her knee then between the pair of them.

Heat carouseled silently with her. Music faint but growing as his hand slid up, thumb pressing circles into the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

"I think I can do better than a museum."

Then it was a burst. An endless spin. Bright lights casting heat. Music both unfamiliar and familiar. In slow time with the steps of beasts stalking about. Each one the same red.

"Is this why you accepted my invitation..?"

His answer was all over his face. His eyes. Their darkness was a struck match finding fuel.

_Yes._

"Show me."

Gloved fingers curled under her chin. Touched her lower lip. Pressed. Open. Her lips to grant his tongue entry. He tasted like brandy and sugar. His lips. His tongue. His. Everything. Every breath. Every faint murmur against her mouth. One curling into sound. Aching and her name.

"Ishizu."

Like a spell.

In a bolt down through her body to the juncture of her thighs and snapping them together lest any more slip out. Wet, precursory pleasure. Desires. For him to say her name again. Low and quiet in a way that thrummed against her rib cage.

"I.. I don't…" she breathed.

_I don't know where this is going._

Where didn't matter as much as how.

She wanted it to burn.

Fingers a rough twist in his hair, she leaned up into his lips with her own. Sparks leapt from point to point. Her to him. Then back again as he pressed into her mouth once more. Anger. Consuming. Consummating. Lips and teeth in necessary contact.

Hands raced up the front of his coat, itching for something to anchor her while the world began to go up in flames. Already, all she could think about was the moment. When he'd bury into her. Sound like he did now. Louder. Harder. With hands gripping tight enough to bruise.

And it wasn't possible to kiss him enough. She'd never have stopped if it weren't for his growl against her mouth and the tug at the back of her head. Untangling from him, she tore the clip from her hair. It was flung elsewhere along with one of his gloves. Then-bare fingers pulled the plaits out of her hair and buried. Into the strands. His tongue back into her mouth. Himself into her senses.

Moment after moment, they were never more than a breath apart. Hands all over. Her mapping out his body. Everywhere. Then at his shoulders for balance. Stitching snapped as she slid one leg over the both of his. He shoved her dress further up and ran hands over newly exposed flesh.

Astride him, she worked at the line of buttons down his chest as he explored. As his face pressed to the curve of her neck and his hand between her thighs. She didn't quite realise what he was at until he was at it, fingers running long circles against the covered petals of her sex. Ministrations incited shivers and she sat, growing ever dizzier on her own arousal.

His unemployed hand slid up to her hip and stopped. Grains of ribbon between his fingers, he hid a smile against her neck and pulled them apart one by one as though opening a long awaited present. And with it out of the way…

Nothing would get him to stop teasing, stop caressing the slick shapes under his fingers. Not requests broken up between breaths. Not trembling hands grasping, crushing the fabric of his coat. If he didn't stop… He had to stop…

Her mouth fell open with a silent cry.

It was. Close. And not enough. The space his fingers took within her. Moving steadily. Like some imitation of what she wanted.

Needed.

But everywhere he touched. Didn't stop touching.

When his lips grazed her ear, hers were still parted in delicious anticipation. For what he might say and what she might in turn. It was her name he branded upon the shell of her ear then so many more things besides. Sweet nothing in the dark and each string of words as light as it was deep. Heavy. Pressing upon her until she stumbled over the edge.

Within and without, she quivered like drawn strings ever tighter. Then snapping apart. Erupting. Into salacious strain.

There and spilling steadily into inertia.

Adrift in thinning haze, she thought to bring him here as well and, in his hand's withdraw, pressed her own between them. Fingers working open the closure of his pants then into it. He rasped a groan across her skin and senses. So painfully  _ready_. And out of patience.

And yet he'd wait a little while longer, eyes snapping shut the moment her fingers moved around him. Under her, he shuddered, enthralled in the pleasure of each of her hand's motions. Their kisses were lingering. Distracted. More lips near and him breathing expressions of pleasure at each other while her fingers pulled. Pressed in pulse-like rhythm. Over and over.

Opening heavy eyes, she saw his head laid back against the seat, neck bared. From under his eyelashes, he looked at her. What a sight he was. Hair in his eyes. Features shifting in grimaces of pleasure. Faint white of passing streetlights flickering over the sheen of what of his skin could be seen. And he was a delight for her ears, sounds made fainter and fainter.

Suddenly she stopped and started again, thumb smudging the very tip of the flesh in her grasp.

He broke into melody. Quivering. He hadn't been able to help it any more than the words to follow. However breathless and all foreign.

His eyes flicked open and she only wished she could see. Whether or not colour, unbidden, had risen to his face.

"I didn't know... you could speak French, Seto..."

Before she could say any more, he'd pressed her hand away and seized her ass, pulling her against him.

They'd waited long enough.

His protest for her rising up on her knees was short-lived.

Her hand fell from his shoulder. Like rents left in the wake, shudders rippled under her fingertips. Under the smoothed shapes of his chest. Lower. For a last time, her fingers curled around his flesh. Repurposed it into a brush. Herself a profane artist. Holding. Moving.

Along petals. Medium.

Smeared.

And his gasp set her aflame.

She played guide for but a moment and in the next gripped his shoulders with both hands. Anchoring. While the world was to be engulfed in flames. One last time. All burned. All it was to begin to feel him.

Slowly.

They came together.

Noises blended. A hum sliding off her tongue. A groan rolling up his throat.

Then more like echoes. Louder.

Not to move. Just to feel him. To _have_ him. To be within her.

Leaning down slowly, her lips brushed his and she felt him stir.

Suddenly, the intercom crackled within the cabin.

"Mr. Kaiba... We'll be arriving at Miss Ishtar's place of residence shortly."

For all the effect it had, it was like she hadn't heard it at all, dotting his face and neck with kisses even while he stretched out a hand and fumbled for the console up between the windows.

Fingers grazed the buttons and fell away as she took his face in her hands. The  _vibrations_. Her moan against his lips and tongue. He nearly melted. Strained sound scratched at his throat as she pulsed around him. The fluttering sensation was more than he could wait for.

Breaking from her, he held down the speaker button and grated.

"Change course for the airport."

Letting go, he went right back to awaiting lips, her little sounds filling his ears. His senses. All of her. All too soon interrupted by another crackle...

"M-Mr. Kaiba, what should I tell the captain?"

Fingertip of a glove between his teeth, he pulled it off and reached for the intercom.

Right button on the first try.

Then a growl.

"Figure it  _out_."

Nothing more would interrupt.

There was only her. Undulation. The form of her body bearing down against his. Until the last remnants of the world began to blacken at the edges. Burn. Until there was nothing he could remember but the name passing lips like a mantra. Hers. Them.

Nothing more than them. Colliding.

A last time.

Pleasure. Pouring out of every nerve ending. Endlessly. Ending. In light and duets electric. Louder. Higher. Fainter. Dizzying pressure of everything forced into one. Shattering. Into a thousand pieces.

And collecting again slowly while the two of them were sent adrift in the music of the spheres.

Gently, she rose and felt him slip away.

The stars danced before eyes closed and eyes opened.

Then later.

Across the blue-black of the skies seen through small, round windows.

The soft sounds of easy breath intermixed over the steady thrum of the jet's engines, the pair asleep where they sat together.


	2. Sunlight

Though the black bars of the balcony was the canal. Early sunlight flicked over dancing waters as little boats chugged by, breeze tugging bright flags.

Just as it did the long curtains at the balcony doors standing wide to let in the muted morning of the city, the low hum of rotors and slow bustle and people crossing the pavement a few floors below.

Melding.

With faint and steady shuffles of fabric. With a hum slipping past parted lips, more breath than anything.

Dark fingers uncurled from a grasp at rod iron. Smoothed up the long, round shapes of the arms at either side of her. Pale skin agleam. Hands twisted in white sheets.

"There..?" His question grazed her skin.

Within her.

Against that point.

In slow friction now that he pushed up from his forearms.

_Right there._

"Ah!"

Her sound was a smudge of rosy pink on a threadbare canvas.

With a soft plap, a pillow fell atop crumpled clothing. Atop worn floorboards, grey paint chipping at wood seams.

Fabric had been strewn across the floor longer than it had served actual purpose. There was more besides. Ensembles still in a shopkeeper's crisp folds. Thick tags still attached to collars and sleeves and to the stiff, leather bags they lay in.

It felt like fire and low. Pleasure in flickers. Her slow twists and untwists under the sheets. Under him. Under his ministrations, a kind of drowsy stasis. Smouldering.

And for pace it was easy to change…

What with a few raps on the door, one after the other, then a call muffled through the door.

"Housekeeping…?" she murmured.

"Yes," he breathed.

Her eyes fluttered open, a misplaced shiver working down her spine.

No matter the reason, the sound had been lovely.

"Say it again."

And she inspired. Made him shiver in turn when the softness of her thigh eased up against his hip.

In a groan, it was there again. "Yes."

Silent and bright.

She was warm. Silk. Fluttering around him now. With every slow rock in.

Beautifully.

Sun clinging to her eyelashes. Kiss-swollen lips ever apart. Eyes alight. Dark strands of her hair spilling into the sheets and pillows.

The door rattled with another series of raps.

He was hoarse when louder, warning on intrusion. " _Sortir_ … Ah. Shit…  _Va t'en_ —" A groan broke into the words. "… _s'il vous plait."_

Footsteps faded away from the other side of the door.

She broke into a bubbling laugh and reached to take his face in her hands, guiding as much as he was leaning in, and kissing him soundly.

"Let's go out," her voice died then rose again in a cry.

Delight and his name.

They untangled. Retangled. Her fingers grasping at his arms, nails leaving crescents. Like moonlight across her skin the prior night.

And now in soft sunlight, breath fading. Softer duets. Steadily. Louder. Slipping up through bared throats. Her head back in nonsense turns then eyes flicking open. Wild and searching and finding. His arms lifting from under her hands. Fingers above her head wrapping around the topmost rail in the iron frame.

Flames rose into a pyre for what he had yet to do. Would do.

Her whine both needless and necessary for his ears.

_Please._

"Seto."

They were fire once more.

Where stoked for so long, pleasure seared through veins. Hearts. In pulses. Hard.  _Harder._ Sun flickering across arms working forward. And more. Like beats in a torrid theme.

Until the thuds of the frame against the wall accompanied them.

Until she fell with a cry, willingly consumed in fire, and took him with her. A shout all his own and trembling into her body beneath his. Heat in an outpour. Wildfire. Racing up to the skies and breaking into a thousand slow-falling sparks. Silent fireworks.

He withdrew slowly and dropped beside her. All eyes on the pale moulding of the ceiling without seeing any of it. And for a time, there was nothing but faint breaths and fainter incandescence of bliss.

Summoning a last bit of will, she turned and pressed to his side, fingers reaching up to smooth errant strands back in place.

"Good morning."

Thought it had been morning for some time now.

"Mm." He only made the one sound, pulling one of the pillows surviving the ordeal over his face, her hand still there and all.

Her fingers quested, nailed tugged at lips soon slipping out of her grasp. "What time is it?"

"Brunch," she told him. "How about that divine little café down the street..?"

"Shower first," was another muffled response.

"Of course."

* * *

Gulls flew. Scratchy cries intermittent in a sky full of greying clouds.

There were more birds than bodies, a couple or two leaning about the wide railing overlooking the turquoise lake. Boats swayed at the docks, their hulls and decoration dulled like the brewing storm over on their waters.

The feet of his chair grated as he turned it just a little more so to face the view, as she had earlier.

They sat just outside the high windows of the café. Painted swirling letters across the glass as carefully shaped as the delicacies within. On the few plates between them, were only traces, flaky bits just small enough not to be worth the trouble.

The sights were idyllic, if cooled now, even on the second day seeing them.

They might have stayed here forever.

If only.

"Seto..?"

He peered at her over his coffee cup.

Even then, her eyes fell to the slats of the table. Neither had mentioned it and…

A day ago, she had asked when the muffled voice of the captain had woken her.

Through the round windows she'd seen the sunlight break at the edges of the earth, spilling across the mountains and fields. A red-roofed city and lake nestled in verdant valleys.

" _Where are we..?"_

" _You'll see."_

It was in the rolling valleys of the countryside. The way the people would speak with easy, lilting voices. The same language she had heard a little of the prior night. In the passenger seat of the rental, she'd asked when it hit her.

" _I-Is this France?"_

" _Of course."_

And she had fallen helplessly for the charm of the old city and what of it he'd showed her, weaving about to all the "best" places. He'd presented each like the gem it was.

All the while she saw these and more.

Of him.

And the missing mask.

Hasty words for the hotel owner over a room.

The twitch at the corner of his mouth for every smile she offered.

His careful hands waking her last night.

" _May I..?"_

She thought she'd dreamt his asking.

But then, perhaps she'd dreamt it all.

A simple invitation yielding all this. And what was 'this' to him? There was a terrible needling thought she was pressing away now. That perhaps this was just some fanciful holiday and nothing more.

Smoothing out the skirt of a blue dress, she tried again. "Seto… I've been wondering…"

The past kept creeping up.

Memory of a young man with little more than cutting words for her. Eyes ever lingering. As if to ask how dare she exist in the same space.

While it was true they had given in, repeatedly, to desires for one another…

What of the time between?

After?

"I already took care of it."

Her brow knit then so did his.

"Took care of what..?"

"Our arrangements."

He pushed a cup-laden saucer aside and folded his arms on the table.

"I contacted the district housing the Domino City Museum and secured the position of museum curator."

She felt as if her heart had pitched up into her throat. Beating furious patterns.

Her face must have showed her shock as he seemed to pale in turn, licking his lips once before speaking once more. "Is that a problem?"

"Kaiba…" Her hands clasped tight, one over another. "I…"

Was it all this simple..?

"I can have another position secured if that would be better."

"No, no. I simply didn't imagine you meant this to be more than a holiday."

At once, she knew she'd said it the wrong way. He sat up, crinkling his dark blazer as he pressed arms into a fold and set his jaw.

"What do you take me for?" His tone had dropped considerably, familiar acid beginning to bleed in. "Some idiot out of touch with reality?"

Her heart came falling back into her chest. Into a vice.

It was like he was reaching for it again.

Something familiar.

"You know we haven't spoken about this. And now you tell me you intend for me to pick up and move across the world so I might… We might…"

_Be together._

Years had gone by without a word.

Now, all in one invitation…

Had he been waiting all this time..?

"I would never make assumptions based on your intentions," she said.

"They were clear from the start."

She had the fortune of already being seated as the words had made her weak in the knees.

It was a romantic sort of thought. His admiring from afar. Seizing upon a chance. Revelling in wistful imagination finally brought to life. And the two of them. Easy. Together.

As if they'd known each other all their lives.

The implication was terrible.

And perfect.

Everything made too much sense.

She couldn't help it then, a hand rising to her mouth even while twinkling laughter slipped through her fingers.

Bright blue dotting valentine hues across the canvas.

It felt as if she'd waited her whole life to laugh right then.

"Must I wait until the end of the week or is now an appropriate time to use the title 'boyfriend' for you?"

She quite nearly broke into giggles when his response was a loud, disapproving click of his tongue, bridge of his nose crinkling.

"Would 'companion' be better then..? 'Lover', perhaps?" she teased quietly. "I rather like the latter…"

"Whatever you prefer. I don't care," he declared suddenly and cast his gaze out towards the lake.

She let him be, a smile perched on her lips all through the moment it took for him to smooth out proverbial ruffled feathers.

* * *

Check paid, the two started down the street.

She hesitated a step and so did he until they'd both stopped entirely. He cast a wide-eyed look at her, albeit a quick one, when she took his arm. With bracing sighs, the two resumed their pace.

This would take some getting used to.

"Where was that line of shops from yesterday?"

"This way."

He gestured with a nod in the direction of a side street.

"Wait."

She leaned up on her toes and made a careful rake through his hair to catch a bit he'd missed with a brush that morning.

It was the last thing on her mind some moments later.

Rather, her fingers were buried in his hair. Twisting what of it she could into her grasp.

Anything to keep him there.

As if the ear pressed against her thigh wasn't enough reassurance…

He was terrible - she'd told him  _at least_  twice - the man presently enamoured with the space between her thighs if his near-silent hums were any proper clue.

Him.

Of all the people in the  _world…_

Had stolen into her dressing room.

She'd been unable to bar him, in the midst of losing a duel with a certain clasp of a dress, and he'd easily stifled her chastising with a hand.

His dark whisper had been just too ridiculous. Too tempting. " _…_ _Have a seat, Miss Ishtar."_

And now she was trapped into silence. Trembling. Articulations clawing up her throat. While he was free to do as he would. Lips on her. Tongue in teasing prods.

Her hand tugged impatiently in his hair.

When he drew away, she sighed, petulant and eager for him to resume all at once.

"Sssh," he whispered, touching a placating kiss to the smooth inside of her thigh. "The rest of the shop will hear."

_Let them hear,_ she'd nearly snapped.

Keeping quiet was… When he kept making that  _sound_ … The smallest little murmur. There and vibrating against the wet shapes under his tongue. Again. In long laps. Then he turned his head just a little and suddenly it was as if he were kissing her here.

She gasped, back arching away from the wall behind it as a wave of heat more tremulous than the last washed over her. One hand flew to the edge of the bench she occupied, gripping it in some alternate release as opposed to more sound.

Words swam in her mind. Every variation of the same demand. "Just—"

Then turned his head again and had. Eased his tongue in. Once and again. In some lurid interpretation of motions he'd made against her times before.

Hips rolling forward, she stifled a cry. Stars danced at the edges of her vision. The edges of the image she'd caught sight of in the mirror before eyes clenched shut.

It branded hot into her memory. Herself. Hair falling all over the lace top of the dress and the rest pressed up around her hips. Long sections of dark flesh, one leg hooked over one broad shoulder. And fixed at the juncture of her thighs, the back of his head. Her fingers in his hair.

Almost gently, his hand slipped between her legs, sliding up near his mouth and pressing her that much more open for his tongue.

Fire rippled ever higher. The abundance of fuel overpowering. Adrenalin. Coursing through her veins. An extra weight to pull her over the edge.

A hiss pressed through gritted teeth, wood edge of the bench loose between her fingers as heat burst and scattered. Then collecting. Spilling. Against an eager palate and tongue. Last strokes lingering.

Chest heaving, she lay back then shivered, the wall of the dressing room cold through the thin fabric of the dress. She let his hair and the bench free, face flushing even more as she felt a small chunk of wood fall from her grasp.

_Oh Ra I've broken it..._

He rose on his knees, hands reaching to brace against the bench.

"Don't!" she whispered hotly.

He nearly asked why but sure enough, there was an all-too-noticeable chip along the underside, a thin crack wavering up through white paint.

Stifling a laugh, he straightened to full height and smoothed out his blazer. Turning to face the mirror, he attempted to tame mess she'd made of his hair.

He caught her eyes in the reflection, his own absently wandering her state of content disarray. "I'll tell the clerk you're wearing it out. Take your time." And this said, he'd ventured out and shut the door carefully behind.

That was more for propriety, she couldn't help but think, to delay in case the both of them were caught leaving the dressing room together.

Shutting her eyes a moment, she basked in the warmth of dying embers. Propriety wasn't to be ignored for long however. With an electric tingle in her veins, she stood slowly and pressed a hand against the wall until she was at least somewhat sure her knees wouldn't give. It was a most wonderful kind of weariness… And still a bit embarrassing.

Standing straight, she pulled the dress back around her hips where it fell just past her ankles then set to righting the rest.

* * *

The bell of the door jingled behind them as it closed.

She hadn't met his eyes, staring pointedly ahead at the cobblestones as they walked, albeit a bit more slowly than before.

"I've never done anything so scandalous in my life," she whispered in disbelief.

"You have a short memory…" he drawled, certain thoughts of limousines coming to mind. "And even then, that's not as bad as spiriting away to Europe."

"If memory serves, I was kidnapped."

"The term connotates force. Non-existent force in this case…"

He was right, of course.

Let it not be said she was without grace. After all, she'd taken the steps up into the jet slowly despite desires otherwise.

"Hush." A beat. "Did you mention anything to the clerk about the dressing room?"

"Of course. You might try to break less expensive furniture in the future…"

Her face was warm again.

"I'm hardly the only one to blame." Still, if the streetside might open underneath and swallow her up, that would be quite alright. "I don't know why you did it anyhow."

Not that there was any compliant for it.

"Past due plans."

Her fingers twitched around his forearm.

The thought that he might surprise her with more "plans" at some point invoked an all-too-familiar flutter in her stomach.

She decided not to pursue that avenue of thought.

"Dare I ask how long past due…?"

When he didn't reply, she glanced up at him, sure she'd caught a fading smile.

"I shall leave you to it then…" she said. "Though might I ask what your plans for the present consist of?"

He stopped rather than answered, blinking up at the grey sky. She noticed too, when droplets began to darken the path underfoot. One after another.

In a moment it was a downpour. Hundreds of drops splattering against the earth and into sudden puddles.

They'd fled aside and found sanctuary under a balcony.

Pinching her dress off her legs, she drew in a breath and let it out slowly.

The world was very small and quiet now.

Buildings rising high and outstretched, like the branches in the canopy of a parched forest.

Bodies like tiny organisms darting under leaves and foliage while the skies opened overhead.

Washed all in cool newness.

"Ishizu."

He wouldn't meet her eyes.

That was the only way he'd get the question out.

"Do you like this?"

Wherever they were right now.

Everything.

_Me._

He felt he knew and didn't know.

"Very much so."

Then she was smiling and he could breathe again. Turn to her again. Kiss her again.

No.

Though it was different right now.

He was slow. Leaning down. Eyes on her lips and hands hesitating in their reach for her face. Though they did. They were each. Quiet and close. Breath ghosting over lips.

His caution made her nervous in a kind of fluttering way, heart like a bird.

He curved fingers around the back of her neck. Brow knit. Brushed lips against hers in modest kisses.

Once.

Twice.

Careful and lingering and abbreviated.

He'd drawn away too soon. Then folding his arms in apparent loss as to what else to do with them.

She knew then that she hadn't dreamt that question at all. Here was that same man standing next to her.

Seto.

Through and through.

Having kissed her as if it had been the first time.

With one hand, she took up the long skirt of her dress and with the other, she touched his arm.

"The hotel's not far… I think we can make it."

He gave the idea a moment's thought and then something of a nod.

The two raced out from under the balcony, the warm grey of the rain overtaking them.

 


	3. Incandescent

The door shut with an unexpected bang when she fell against it. Peeled off slippery soles responsible. No doubt they were ruined but the dress was salvageable. She squeezed and water dripped between her fingers from the fabric in hand.

She closed her eyes and felt. Lines in woodgrain underfoot. Mingling sounds of water. Plips of drops on the balcony. Pattering across the rooftop like fingertips in thoughtful drums against tabletops.

Hinges squealed faintly.

"Seto."

He stood, hands on the balcony doors, peering across the dimness at her.

"Leave them be, if you would."

He looked down, spied the tell-tale sheen across the threshold. No matter. She wanted to hear the rain, he supposed, eyes turning to what of the world he could see now.

Through the balcony doors was the quiet. Blue. Grey. Colder with every new drop. Tethered boats swayed upon steadily rocking waters, little waves a thousand cradles welcoming the new life in droplets.

Her bare footsteps tickled his ears and turning, he caught sight of them and suddenly more. She stood. Dress hung over one bare arm, dripping on the floorboards. Undergarments to her skin and hair to her face, all plastered. Chest rising and falling quickly for breath not yet caught after the race up the street.

A small, slow smile for him.

_Why?_

The answer flitted coyly in reach while he dared not touch it.

The mere thought caused his face to warm and eyes to dart away.

"Is something on your mind..?"

Her words were as quiet as her steps towards the bathroom. The dress hung in the doorway then and she made her way back, paused to tug a wrinkle out of otherwise neat bed covers, not a stitch of clothing on her by then.

Heart beating patterns into his neck, he swallowed as she neared.

He leaned down, eyes on lips then his own there. Waiting for her to finish speaking. "You should get out of these clothes, you'll catch a cold." In order to kiss her.

But draw back too soon.

In the grey, she felt it hanging about his shoulders. Her hands rose and fell again. It seemed, with just a touch, he might shatter.

She was as quiet as she could manage. "Whatever it is, you can tell me…"

He couldn't.

Not in so many words.

_How do I…?_

"Take these off."

Rivulets of water ran down her hands. A few then quickly more - her fingers curled tight and his had lifted her face to his. Lips met again.

Lingered.

Droplet after droplet. A thousand. Pattering on the rooftop.

More.

Her heart beating with less and less rhythm.

_More._

Filling up the quiet.

He hesitated.

As if it were the last time.

The first time.

Cold, bare hands ran over slick shoulders. Stopped in a simple hold.

Like a stranger might.

Leaning. Eyes heavy.

Like a lover would.

Kisses.

On rain-wet skin.

The hollow of her neck.

Here.

Curve of her throat.

There.

His breaths. Shorter. Steadier. Concentrated.

Three more. For each cheek.

A last on her forehead.

He looked as bewildered -

\- brow unknit and reknit -

as she felt -

\- heart stumbling wildly through an unfamiliar pattern.

Her eyes searched and found nothing in his features. Nothing hidden. Even now.

She remembered.

A single look at her and her back at him where the mask had slipped. Revealed. Eyes tired but bright. Lips easy, free of ever-twisting sneers.

All almost soft.

That fateful afternoon. Sands whispering across the dunes. This last glance before he'd leapt up into his jet and disappeared into the clouds.

The same way he was looking at her right then.

Everything within quivered. Then without.

A silent gasp. Understanding. Trepidation. Willingness. To hear what he was trying to say now. Tell her. Hands on her face. Then slipping away and elsewhere.

Gently.

Each touch of his lips to hers. Each a little. Longer. Warmer. Melting into a singular union. Two flames as one small fire.

He was earnest.

And slow.

Movements of his tongue along hers drawing hums.

Once more, her hands curled into his clothes, pulled the both of them along. Calves bumped purposefully into the side of the bed.

As he undressed, her fingers dragged. Over every new part revealed. Pale. Wet. Over each more perfect sliver of flesh. Absently. Suddenly. She squeezed his forearms in a moment's fright when he'd pulled her up. All of her into his arms.

Then placed her in bed.

He had only just settled onto his knees, into bed with her, when she curled and rose. Dark and trembling fingers grazing his neck. Twisting tight in his hair and pulled him to her. She swallowed his sounds of surprise, delighted in the obstinate creak of the springs under them.

Head hitting pillows, she gasped for breath and heard him do the same. Lights danced in her vision. In the near-dark she found his eyes on her so…

Fixated.

Though he hadn't said a word, he was saying it now. Would say it again. Until she lost count of the utterances.

Or he exhausted the both of them repeating.

In his hair, her hand tugged. Longing wound around her heart and cut in like thick strings. For a little clarity. Just a little more.

"I thought…"

His whispers were dying. Struggle stealing sound away.

"Ever since…"

He leaned down for more. Drawn, distracted kisses.

Slowly stopping.

"I just want this not to…"

_End._

He swallowed.

The one word and the few following were too thick in his throat. Sticking.

In his mouth.

To his lips.

In this way, she would know. He'd smudge it into her skin.

Traces of red.

On dark and fertile earth.

And wait.

Watch and see if each took root.

He took her hand from his hair, fingers at her wrist and then his lips there. A kiss like fire feathering into another small flame.

Then another.

Soft dots to damp skin.

Up her arm.

Across the natural line of her collar.

Each more careful.

Each flame more bright.

A touch to her lips. Off which had slipped every articulation. Bright and glimmering. Soft sighs now. Hitching when he sat back.

She didn't have to open her eyes to know, she felt his on her. A moment. Before he began anew.

Gliding trails down her body.

His hand. Then following it, the smallest kisses.

Up and over the swell of her breast.

Down her stomach.

She gasped.  _Shivered._ When still-cold hands hooked under her legs, drew them apart, and eased into the space between.

How different he was. Here over her. On hands and knees like he'd been a half dozen times by now.

It was one thing to know his practised motions. And another to feel him learn everything all over again.

In a heartbeat, protest was loud.

She was free this time to exclaim.

Tell him not to. To stop.

The slow laps. Down the inside of one thigh. And to her. Over tender petals rippling with heat like dying embers. The whole of her starting to burn. A flames overwhelmingly eager and leaping to fresh fuel. His tongue easing into the depth of her body.

It was more than enough, fire took. Steadied. But she pushed him back by the shoulders, nearly forgetting why when he sat up and peered through the dark.

Licked the taste of her off his lips.

"I need you right now."

Vague and not.

So very  _her_.

He succumbed to her demand and shifted up. Pressing. Into her.

Then setting the rest of her.

Ablaze.

Each of them.

Pleasure surging up spines. Spreading through veins. In pulses. Glowing swells of fire. In every move of his hips. Her flutters around him. Something more than there had been. Beyond patience. Entwining.

Like them.

Like their lives now.

The realization is everything.

_Yes._

They breathed, one after another.

It's taken too long.

Figuring out what they are.

Incandescent.

Melodic.

He'd paused under the weight of everything.

Pleasure in sparks like a thousand candles.

And them.

Enwrapped in more than words could express.

Lips were better employed together, in chaste and slow kisses. Until she wove around him. Legs smoothing around his sides and arms behind his neck. Made him stay.

In.

Her tongue inviting his back into her mouth where he'd play. Distract her, both from his quivering within her and her own smiles, and earn a sigh.

Faint.

Before she snapped taut under him. Vibrating. Like strings. His fingers dragging through dark curls. The pad of his thumb at a pearl of flesh.

Caressing.

In careful time with his movements.

Until she cried out.

Nails in shoulders. Spine curved and hips rising. An angry flame snapping to life and up towards the sun. Long draws in of breath like an orchestral swell, strings high and tight and woodwinds faint but steady. Rising. Consuming. Bursting. Together in a shower of sparks. Then letting out, soft cries, notes adrift and tumbling apart.

Into quiet anticipation of what comes next. What happens. Tomorrow. Right now. Bliss like smoke trails curling up. Thinning. Fading. Waxy beads trailing down skin. Slicked. Exertion and rain.

He dropped beside her, breathed some semblance to agree when she'd asked, hoarsely.

"Shower…?"

* * *

The shower stall stood empty. Fresh water dotting glass walls. Across the room, rain beat heavily against a fogged window. Soft rumbling thunder rattling the whole of it.

"I suppose this isn't safe, is it?" she asked, sounding like she would doze off then and there, water up to her chest. "They say you can get electrocuted and all."

"Hm," was his only response.

His head was back against the tile wall behind the front of the bathtub. Really, he appeared quite comfortable there across from her. Their legs entwined underwater.

She couldn't resist splashing at him and watching the water trail back down his chest. For the third time. By now he'd figured it out and didn't so much as blink.

Where there weren't fading patches of bubbles, the water was a thick gold.

"Wherever did you find this stuff..?"

"The shop up the street. Next door to the place with that ridiculous hat you wanted."

"It was not ridiculous." She splashed at him again, satisfied when his eyes flicked open. "Did you buy just this one for me or were there more?"

"Just this one."

She watched him swirl a hand through the water, making the colours move. Cloud. Glimmer.

"Are they all coated in glitter?"

He repeated. "Just this one."

It was little surprise he'd settled on this one, she thought, and hid a smile behind her fingers.

Somehow, he still managed to  _hear_ it even if he didn't see it. "What?"

"Nothing, love," she said and pulled the best poker face she could manage at the time. But under his stare, it cracked into a smile. "Or would 'greatest of calamities' be more appropriate..?"

The next thing she knew, her hair was wet again and he sat, smirking and eyeing the results of his splash work. Pursed lips and gold on her face, she unwound her legs from his and reached for the sides of the tub. In turn, he reached for her.

"Don't be such a killjoy, Ishizu."

As in, stay in the tub.

"As you wish."

Her lips eased into a smile far too innocent, her nails grazing his knees.

"Don't," he snapped. "I don't want this stuff in my hair."

"No harm in a little sparkle now and then."

That said, she yanked him underwater. He'd come up positively agleam and sputtering, angry at her. Or rather, trying to be. It held a moment until her laughter melted it away.


	4. Lightning : Skyfire

He woke to faint humming.

Afternoon sunlight on his face.

On crumpled sheets.

The duvet..? On the floor in a heap.

Again.

Sleep bled quickly away and even so, he stayed.

A moment.

Not so different than the bits of dust slowly swirling near the window.

Welcome weariness all.

Listening.

Sure, bare steps. Her patterns ambling through the kitchen were familiar.

A cabinet door opening. Closing. Maybe the sugar. Tea cups. Spoons. Ringing like bells.

She was almost done then.

From under movement, the springs creaked.

"Wake up, Seto."

It sounded like a song. The way she began to repeat. Set-o. He'd never tire of it. Her smooth, certain tone. The way her lips puckered when she said it. Just a little.

He'd rather taste right then, he decided. Ishizu and tea.

A few steps took him to her.

And the little smile tugging at those lips was more than enough reason for getting up.

And so was the rest of her.

Wrapped in the usual gleaming bands yet little more, like she'd given up halfway through. His shirt. Crinkled sleeves up and not a single button pressed into the corresponding hole. Instead parted around a sliver of flesh visible on down to a modest pair of panties.

His eyes wandered up to find hers watching. Knowing. And when he took a step forward, she pressed a teacup and saucer and all into questing hands.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Kaiba. I am pleased to see you've decided to attend the meeting."

She was trying and succeeding at keeping a straight face.

He played along. Actively. Setting the cup and all on the counter and nearing.

"There are important Ishtar Corp. issues to discuss. Please make yourself comfortable."

While she gestured at the barstools, comfortable turned out to be nearer still, his hands there on her hips.

And she refused to set down her tea.

Of course.

"Ishtar Corp," he had to echo, more than amused.

"Oh yes." She was earnest. "I believe you are quite well-versed in the corporation's innermost workings, yes?"

If he hadn't been looking already, he supposed he'd have missed it.

A quick, wicked curve of her lips. Gone before she lifted her cup and delicately sipped her tea.

His lips threatened to mutiny.

_Oh Ishizu..._

Alluding to such filthy things and standing here as prim as could be.

She was so…

"If I might…" she began, "your tenacity in relations with my company has been  _most_  impressive."

And two might play the game, as they said.

"Thank you." He delighted in the way her brow twitched, the smallest sign of surprise at his easy politeness. "I have a  _vested_  interest in your company and am glad to hear this is evident."

She mouthed, blinked, thought slipping.

So he'd gone on.

"If all is well, I have to wonder at the purpose of this meeting."

As if trying to remember, her lips pressed together.

"Was there a problem, Miss President..?"

Sipping her tea once more, she then sighed as if dismayed. "I'm afraid we've been working to pinpoint an issue. The findings of all data collected have been inconclusive however and given the source of the issue… well… that is why I've called this meeting."

She set down her teacup and saucer, chewing on the inside of her lip as she thought of what more to say. This was made somewhat more difficult with his leaning in then, lips just missing hers.

"Oh..?" he hummed near her neck.

At length, she replied. "In the interest of our company's partnership, I'm—Mm…"

He found it every time.

The spot on her neck where her heartbeat seemed to pulse against his mouth.

Warm words curled against her skin. "Go on."

And he would do the same.

"I have some concerns…" Oh he was  _trying_ to leave a mark wasn't he? "…about the general functions of your company."

He was moving now, beginning to touch kisses to her skin, pressing aside the collar she'd smeared with her own lipstick.

One.

Two.

All propriety went fluttering out the proverbial window as she wheeled back, bumping into the counter and trying to stop.

Laughing and him.

Characteristically, he pressed her between the counter and himself and made to resume.

"Stop, Seto.  _Stop_." She nearly squealed. "You're all…  _prickly._ "

He hummed in agreement, touching more kisses on up her neck even while she squirmed, hands on his chest in half-hearted pushes back.

"Stop," she gasped. When he failed to, her needless words tumbled out between breaths and laughs. "It… tickles… Go  _shave._ "

The eyes on his face were bright. Wandering. Then hands.

"You really should…" Her hands rubbed along his jawline, short hairs prickling at her fingers.

She hummed in approval then and he hummed back, eyes slipping shut while her hands moved.

"You do it," he murmured, sounding as if he might doze off. "I assume this is the reason for the meeting."

She touched a finger to his lips.

"No. My concerns were more specifically for the functions of the head of the company."

Which she had her fingers all over, presently.

And if that's what she was after…

Eyes flicking open, he caught her, a thumb idly rubbing circles over the soft inside of one wrist.

And when he spoke, his voice had dropped an octave. "You might've just said so. I would be happy to  _address_  your concerns."

Eyes met lips and he neared… then stopped, stayed by her other hand rising to his mouth for a moment.

In the quiet, he felt her pulse under his grip. Rising. She had something else in mind…

Then there was little question what, her free hand pushing between them and down along his stomach, in under the the hem of his pants. Her fingers edged carefully lower and lower until he winced.

"No boxers at your own meeting?" She sounded amused.

"You should know, you hid them—" He broke into a hiss as her fingers curled tight.

"Whatever makes you think I would do something like that, Mr. Kaiba..?"

Of course it was easy for her to prattle. She didn't have a hand shoved down the front of her pants... Nails carefully dragging skin to further rouse...

"Generally," he breathed, hands squeezing the counter suddenly in some reflection of what she was doing right then, "you scheme."

"That I do, I'll admit."

Which begged the question, what did she have in mind now..?

Unfortunately, the question wasn't due for an answer as the familiar vibrations of her phone rattled the coffee table just around the corner.

Much to his reluctance, she let him be and whisked away.

"Ah yes. Of course." Laughter. Faux formalities. "A good afternoon to you as well, sir."

_Sir inconvenience._

_Sir I'll have that number blocked I swear to god…_

Phone cradled against her ear, she wandered towards the bedroom and shot him the most venomous look she could manage upon noticing him follow.

_Don't you dare._

He didn't.

He perched on the bench at the end of the bed, watched her loop all through the room murmuring into the phone and amassing a collection of the rest of her clothing for the day in a heap atop his.

"Of course. Two o'clock..?"

The voice on the other end was muffles in a lilt more familiar than he cared to admit. All the while, his gaze made and remade all the familiar paths down her body.

Naturally, she noticed.

"Hm? Yes? I'm sorry, Mr. Crawford. I didn't catch that…"

In turn, she offered Seto a look then another, confused that he'd decided to behave for once. In fact, he soon seemed more interested in clothing not yet on her as opposed to what little was, shifting her things aside as his hand grazed his belt.

"Deux Religieuse," she pronounced carefully. "Two o'clock is perfect, yes. I'll see you soon."

Call ended, the phone clattered unceremoniously to the floor as she cried in surprise. He'd pulled his belt around the small of her back and yanked her forward.

"Seto…" she warned.

But he only pulled her that much closer.

She shivered. Told herself it was for novelty. His legs brushing either side of her much smoother ones. His hands near either hip, wrapped around leather… It would be a lie to say the notion didn't give her an idea or two or that she hoped he had ideas of his own…

The eyes looking up at her were positively ravenous. She swallowed as if to quell the sudden wild desire crackling to life within her.

"There's only an hour until two, Seto," she stated somehow firmly in spite of herself.

Effort but a quickly dying kind.

Her skin broke into goosebumps when his breath ghosted her stomach. Just above her navel.

Then more.

Open-mouthed kisses ever so slowly up.

Ticklish as before but this intermixed with pleasure, these little brands to her skin. Desire like tiny sparklers. Silent and bright.

Placing a kiss between her breasts, he drew back far enough to look up at her and murmured.

"It won't take long."

The belt buckle made an audible thud on the floor, his hands freed and all over her skin, fingers giving pause to skim along her lower back just to be sure the rough inside of the leather hadn't irritated even through the shirt…

And there was another thought. The shirt.

He pushed the fabric over her shoulders and left her to shrug out of it as his hands smoothed back down, palmed the weight of her breasts. He was content with little more, simply eyeing the flesh he was busy kneading with both hands. Carefully. Play here had always been particular for her, he hadn't forgotten.

"Très jolie."

_So pretty._

And hearing his tongue twist around the foreign words, Ishizu's face flooded with heat. Though a shaky breath preceded, her demand was clear. "No."

He acquiesced, not uttering a word more and instead occupying his lips with her skin.

It was then that the phone rang.

Again.

With a purposely loud sigh, he let her go.

* * *

Moments later, they were at the door.

She bent, fiddling with the strap of a bright violet heel, and he noticed then. Her shirt opening up from artful tucking in her skirt. Crisp sides pulled apart to show dark fabric underneath. Delicate lace swirling up the edges of the cups molded around her breasts and honestly…

"Is that a bustier?"

"Hm? Yes, it is." Her brows quirked in surprise and she straightened up and smiled, seeming pleased he knew any of her clothing by name other than what little needed in asking her what all to take off.

"Why isn't the shirt buttoned up?"

Her smile faded into a sigh and she bumped him aside with her hip, checking her reflection in the mirror. "Because I want it that way and it won't button all the way anyhow."

He bumped into her hip with his own, albeit less rudely than she had, partaking in the same sort of final preening there in the foyer. Then he drawled, "I find that hard to believe."

His eyes flicked to her reflection when she straightened up again. She then took the sides of the shirt in question and tugged them together or… as close as they would get… and inadvertently did something rather  _lovely_ with her cleavage…

All too easily, he imagined her gasping when he turned her about on the spot and pushed her up against the sideboard. The thought of her skin against his face. Her chest. Warm and soft. And then treating her to that thing with his tongue she liked  _so_  well.

Her huff broke his lurid reverie. "If you weren't so rail thin…" her complaint trailed as she fixated on a lipsticked corner of her mouth and whatever was wrong with it.

Turning, he figured it out. There on one pointed collar end was embroidery the size of a coin, stitches the same pale blue as the shirt itself. KC. Two different shirts borrowed in one day. Of course it didn't fit the same way on her as it did him.

"If your chest was smaller…" he quipped in turn, prompting a turn  _and_ a raised brow.

"And that's  _such_ a problem, Seto. You're right. I'll get right on a solution." She reached up to pat his cheek though not so gently.

Attempting to remedy the situation, he reached, hand touching her side along her ribs. "I can always remind you of my thoughts about them..."

And it worked for the most part, her lips twitching in what was surely a smile she fought off even while she swatted away his hands.

"Don't you dare. It's a fifteen minute drive to the other end of the city and we've got—"

She twisted about, looking and finding her purse but he'd beaten her to it, phone disappearing back into the inner pockets of the violet coat he'd chosen for the day.

"Just enough time to get there."

His lips quirked into a rare grin at her wary twitch when he'd reached for the small of her back and guided her to the door.

* * *

"Is this the right place?"

She peered through the heavily-tinted window as the car glided to a stop, engine cutting down to a silken purr.

It was non-descript in the most expensive way, deep chocolate-hued facing smoothing up two stories and nothing more to mark save a curvature into a door and eye-level goldworked letters.

From the driver's seat, Seto sighed. "He's remarkably maverick, I'll give him that."

She hummed with amusement. Coming from one Seto Kaiba, that was nearly a compliment. "I'll be sure to let him know you were impressed with his choice in venue."

She smiled and leaned in, expectantly pursing her lips until he leaned in as well and touched his own to them.

"I'll let you know when the meeting's drawing to a close."

* * *

The hostess inside was the definition of pretentious, surveying Ishizu down the end of her nose.

"Name?" she called in a heavy accent. How the word even got through was curious, the woman's dark-lipped scowl as tight as her uniform.

"Ishtar, Ishizu."

With this knowledge, the woman swept back behind her podium, staring down at the list assumably there with a look like it had offended her.

Dish and utensils chimed softly. Conversation just barely much louder. Everything told in muted tones, as if it were all some great secret. Every inch of the place spoke to indulgence. Deep browns in polished woods and plush velvet, rich creams topped artfully with vibrant pops of colour - bouquets from local markets in well kept clusters and as fragrant as the dishes whisked about atop gilded trays.

_Deux Religieuse._

It did indeed look as if someone had painstakingly re-imagined dessert into a décor pallet. Her eyes alighted on some structure further back, gold in some considerably-sized architecture rising—

"There is no  _Ishtar_ here," the woman snipped, adjusting her thin glasses and glaring as if to cast Ishizu from the restaurant by sheer force of will.

If only to rattle her, Ishizu summoned her most serene smile. "Do look again. By first name. I'm scheduled to see a Mr. Crawford for lunch and I do not appreciate the delay."

At the name, the hostess's brows disappeared under her thick bangs. She shoved her glasses up the bridge of her nose and scanned her lists again. "Uh… yes. There is an Ishizu here…" Her head snapped up, eyes wide behind her spectacles. "An Ishizu Kaiba."

It required conscious effort not to erupt in laughter. This was close enough… Though someone had certainly been supposing…

"Well now…" the melodious voice of that someone chimed in, the sudden appearance of its owner causing the host to clutch at her heart in fright.

He sighed gustily, offering Ishizu both a wink only she could see and his arm. She took it, gazing at the floor to fight the smile daring to give them both away.

"I do believe you've delayed my guest long enough."

"A-Apologies both." The woman licked her lips nervously and bowed her head. "Mr. Crawford. Mrs. Kaiba."

The pair left her there, pouring of the list as if to commit it to memory.

Weaving carefully around tables and servers, he led the way, leaning slightly aside when she leaned up, chastising in a hushed tone. "You're  _terrible_ you know. The poor thing nearly had a heart attack."

His answer was a dark chuckle as he let her free, eyes positively twinkling with mischief, and took a seat after she had.

Simply, he looked in as high-spirits as ever, bright red reduced to a bit of frill and pinned, peeking out between black lapels. As always, it was there, an enviable sort of refined grace. Even in just the way he reached for his half-filled glass.

"You look well," she offered politely, smile turning soft.

"As do you, my dear. Though I think more than well would not be inaccurate…" He fiddled with silvery strands of his hair and eyed her intently, seeming to want to say a great deal more but instead waiting until the right moment to strike.

Ishizu straightened in her seat. "You might at least explain why you gave the hostess the wrong surname."

"Oh that." He sounded disinterested even if he was clearly anything but. "I'd heard you two lovebirds purchased a château here, was I mistaken?"

"You were not." Ishizu dallied, unfolding the thick napkin from around gold-dipped utensils. There was no meeting, she supposed, only this lunch date. Pegasus was an old friend and here to play the game, as it were. "Though your presuming this trip a honeymoon of sorts is mistaken, I'm afraid."

"I'm sure." He distorted a knowing smile behind his glass, not believing a word. "I anticipated his being tight-lipped, thought not yours… Do give me a little something."

He purposely waved a server near and initiated ordering, delaying Ishizu's decision to answer. As it was, it worked.

* * *

A dozen empty plates dotted the table between them, a dark half-empty bottle amongst.

The two were joined in rosy laughter, Ishizu trying and failing to conceal it behind her hand.

"In any case, I'm happy to hear the two of you are doing well."

Ishizu opened her mouth to agree in some form when a curiously cheerful melody interrupted, the bright tones made her think of something televised, targeted to children… Pegasus extracted his phone from his person and departed with the politest of apologies as he rose to handle the call.

With him gone for the moment, she retrieved a spoon from a nearby bowl, sucking crème fraîche off the end yet setting it down with a clink as her own phone buzzed in her purse.

A message from a quarter ago.

[Enjoying yourself?]

Then another just then.

[I've been thinking.]

[About what?] she typed. Wondered. Swallowed.

Seto rarely texted after all and the few times he had…

[The restaurant.] Then there was another text before she could ask why. [Lot of spaces you could disappear into.]

Staring at her phone, she clicked the screen off. Something settled in her stomach as if someone had begun to pour something in.

_It's just the alcohol._

Her phone lit with another message and against better judgement, she looked.

[We were interrupted earlier.]

She tapped quickly, resolving to divert conversation down another avenue. [I had a meeting to attend.]

[Which has gone on long enough.]

[It's at a close. You can pick me up soon.]

[Ishizu.] For no reason at all, she imagined him saying it. Her name. Deep timbre growing ever darker the more he spoke… [I've been thinking about you this whole time.]

Her legs snapped together, heat swirling within her.

She'd blame the alcohol for certain now, thoughts swirling about of what exactly he might have been thinking… Picking up where they left off that morning…. He was probably in the car somewhere. Waiting to take her home… Would he even wait..? No. Maybe… Drive home maddeningly quiet. Kick the front door shut. Shove her up against it.

Ishizu exhaled slowly. There was time to think about this later, wasn't there?

[About how good you feel]

Her heart had wedged into her throat, beating hard patterns into her neck.

Radically aware of what was happening, she clicked the screen off again, phone clutched in her hands as she stared at the tablet and saw nothing. Ensnared in indecision. Put it away or…

[Is he there?]

The cursor blinked several times before she typed. [He stepped away a moment.]

The vibrations from the phone made her jump then and hastily swipe at the screen to end the incoming call. Had he  _really_ intended to talk? Right now..? It was bad enough imagining him intoning each message and then not to have to… to have his voice there at her ear. In husky cadence. Detailing. Delving into fantasies.

[What are you thinking right now?]

The part of her lower lip she'd held slipped from between her teeth as she tapped furiously about what she thought, something vicious about his behaviour—

[I love when you bite your lip like that.]

The phone clattered loudly against the edge of an empty plate. She collected it and ducked her head, willing anyone who'd noticed to go about their business again. Somehow, she managed to keep from looking about too quick, instead looking as if her gaze roamed only idly about the restaurant.

Too idly, evidently.

There wasn't a trace of him from whatever perch he'd been spying from…

She found herself rationalizing wildly. Who cared about the house? The moment she was back in the car, she'd make her demand. Simple. Honest. " _Park somewhere._ " Have him. Right then and there. But first…

She spied her lunch companion near the front of the establishment, unfortunately rather animated in his phone conversation.

[I won't be long—]

She'd started to type but another message blinked in.

And stole the breath out of her lungs entirely.

[Come find me.]

Before sense could get hold of her, she shoved her phone into her purse and left it there on the booth, some sign she hadn't left ultimately.

She slipped around tables and bodies and out into a hall, presuming it led either to restrooms or on back to the kitchens. Steps were forcibly slow, a crowd of heartbeats between each click of her heels— then suddenly stopping as an arm shot around her waist and she was yanked backwards into the dark.

There was only the sound of a door shutting. Tiny lights of a dozen idle electronics blinking. The warmth of another body seeping into her hers, pressed against her back. Hand smoothing down her legs and together, fingers crooking like claws and dragging slowly back up to her hips.

She swallowed away her own articulation of praise and breathed. Needless and quiet.

"Seto?"

She felt him over her shoulder. Breath and words curling about her skin like soft fire. "In the flesh." Sonorous. Teeth grazing that spot along her neck that had her gasping. Turning about in his hold. Clawing at his coat.

She was beyond caring, seizing fistfuls of his clothes and dragging him against her. Multi-level slats pressed at her back and legs. A shelf of some kind. Yes. Something glass and small scraped the shelf up near her head and fell somewhere in a twinkle of sound.

The warmth of his breath was there on her lips and she leaned, rage rising in a burst when he caught her chin. Kept her from kissing him.

"You'll smear your lipstick."

There was little enough time without adding that particular difficulty to clear up. Still… She turned her head out of his grasp and growled.

"If you don't finish what you started…"

True venom losing potency for the lack of a target to sink teeth and claws into. After all, she failed to say just what she'd do to him.

His hum in turn was as dark as it was rich. He was so pleased with himself for winding her up so tight. All she needed,  _wanted,_ was a proper release. But, he'd decided, she was going to ask for it first.

His hands skimmed down her sides, stopping at a familiar scratch of fabric. Her skirt.

"Ishizu." His voice was a rumble in the dark. "Bien-aimé."

_Beloved._

Her hands tugged sharply at his clothes, the usual calm of her voice nowhere to be found in her frustrated cry. Now. Of all times. He'd say such sweet things.

"Je vous déteste en ce moment."

_I hate you right now._

He touched a careful kiss to her cheek. As if he found the insult charming. Fingers curling under her skirt, his lips grazed, words warmed the shell of her ear.

"Ssh. Quelqu'un peut entendre."

_Someone may hear._

"Pourquoi prends-tu si beaucoup de temps?" she hissed, albeit more quietly now.

_Why are you taking so long?_

Her hands abandoned his coat and darted down to seize her own skirt and drag it up her hips. Praise the gods she'd thought to wear the one with some stretch in the fabric. There would be not a trace of the crinkles in it now, bunched up around her hips.

Against the floor, something crumpled and other scuffed. His coat and boots.

Fingers smoothed fondly up her thighs. Hooked under and tugged down panties she stepped out of, heels clicking.

There was an awful moment then.

Nothing.

Everything.

Thunderous hearts. Pulsing sparks. Pleasure. Anticipation spidering through every vein. Out and down. Fingertips and toes. He was the most terrible  _wonderful_ inconvenience. Proud. Cruel. _Bastard._ Telling her all these things. Simple words across a brightly-lit screen. Her having read each more hungrily. Each letter like a swallowed flame. And desires. Planted. Flourished. Would now come to fruition.

If he'd just…

"Hurry up."

"And what..?"

She bit her lip, chewing on the part of it between her teeth to keep the curses from slipping out.

"We are not playing this game, Seto."

A cry broke from her chest. For the fingertips touching. Smearing.

"Look how wet you are…"

A whine slipped off her lips and eased right into another as his hand turned, absently thumbed a swelled pearl of flesh.

"All for me..?"

She answered. Audibly. Bodily. A gasp. Legs twitching as warmth flooded her. Spilled. All of her clamping hard. Around nothing. The motion of his hand stopped immediately and she knew then. He'd  _felt_ it. That the trembling breath below meant his control was tenuous.

She'd reach, fingers threading into his hair and nails grazing his scalp near his ear. The way he liked. It wouldn't take much more, she was sure. She'd have what she wanted. Finally.

"Please," she breathed this whisper. Forgetting language. Forgetting whatever else she should have added in request.

One cheek against her thigh then the other. The shift of his head up to nestle between her legs. Something like a sigh against her. Contented. In causing pleasure. As if he ought to. As if he belonged precisely where he was.

Pleasure bolted through her and spread. Bright and hot like lightning. Up through her body and spilling out of her lungs. Up from where his lips touched. Then his tongue. Gently. Slow laps which had her fingers twisting in his hair. Hips jutting up when his murmurs vibrated on warm and tender skin under his lips.

"I wish I could  _see…_ " he groaned. Sound of his ache pouring into her senses. "You look so beautiful making those sounds…"

Moans in nearly every exhale. Round and precious as gems. Himself a voracious collector never to be satisfied. And she wished it too. Sight. To see how dark his eyes had grown. Deep lines in his brow. The whole of his  _mind_ on her.

Everything urged her on and her response did the same. Circularity. Presently inhibited as she desperately tried to keep quiet even while failing.

"Chante pour moi."

Her head tipped back. Mouth falling open in a silent cry. Bracelets at her trembling wrist melodic.

"Oh gods…"

_Please don't say that._

As if it had been a prayer. As if he'd heard it. As if he chose not to comply. Instead repeating, making sure she'd heard.

"Sing for me."

Where spots of warmth rose to already-flushed cheeks, they bloomed.

For a wild moment, she imagined pushing him back and jerking her skirt back down around her legs. He was quote inappropriately so…  _Ridiculous._ Romantic. Clever as hell… Any bit of resolve melted under the warmth of his mouth. Wet motions of his tongue like caresses.

He urged her on.

In act and word.

Somehow long-suffering in his greed and repaying each bright articulation with more in turn. Exchanges like sparks. Like light rippling over dense clouds of lust. A most perfect storm. All over quivering. Without and within.

Beloved, wild fluttering.

While the world was showered in light. While she came to know bliss. Even amidst the downpour, she felt his hands grasp her ass and pull her closer. His mouth press more against her. Him, tongue drawn out and sucking carefully on her flesh as if to sate some profane thirst.

In full.

Where lights faded and touched to the ground were fertile ashes like a phoenix's.

He withdrew and she shivered, now-cold air unpleasant against her skin. He shifted up with a grunt then a scratchy whisper. "Close your eyes."

Light flicked on in the next moment and she stood, waiting until the backs of her eyelids were not quite such a vivid red, tugging her skirt back down.

She cracked an eye open and then another and found him standing here, breath evening out better than her own. It had been a mechanical room, evidently. Wiring. Lights. Buttons. Somehow, it wasn't surprising this had been his choice in scene.

"Are you alright?" he asked and looked her up and down, gaze lingering at her feet.

"I will be… in a moment."

Even so, he seemed not to take her word for it, nearing and not a word to ridicule her latching onto his forearms.

And after said moment, she was cutting a slow path through the restaurant and soon exchanging apologies and farewells.

* * *

She reached up, pulling the car door down and shut. The vehicle then glided away from the restaurant and, as if waiting, Ishizu lay back in her seat once it had disappeared from sight.

The car was quiet.

At any other point, she might've slipped off to sleep but it could wait until they were home. After rest perhaps. Then maybe find out what he was up to by then…

Glancing at him, she reached to the console between them, nails clicking on sleek plastic. He spared her a glance in return, hand slipping under hers and interlacing fingers.


	5. Detonations

Ishizu smiled at the entwinement of their hands, gaze soon wandering up. His arm. The twist of his coat up from his shoulder. A line of gleaming studs. A rather modest collar. Deep lines slanting up his neck. A dark strand of his hair curving away from the rest.

She leaned, nails in a quick swipe to set it back in place near his ear.

A building or two blurred by as the car shot forward then lurched to a stop, appropriate signage demanding so. He'd slipped..? It wasn't as if the car was new… Confusion crinkled her brow and she withdrew, eyeing him when he licked his lips almost nervously and glanced at her… then looked again… And proceeded to strip her out of her clothes by sight alone. Eyeing everything she wore, piece by piece.

His fingers twitched and slid out from between hers. Across her thigh.

She watched him fall. Deeper. Into his own lust. Eyes raking up her body. Embers glowing to life somehow amidst ashes within her. And him willing it in looking.

At her hips. Higher.

A thousand thoughts darkening the colour of his eyes.

At her neck. Higher.

Tongue darting over his lips again as his gaze fixed on hers. It seemed forever that he'd had a taste. Where was her lipstick..?

At her eyes. Darkening like his and all over his face searching. Finding. Still parting those perfect lips to ask.

"Seto?"

His name slipping from her in a breath.

Something within him roared. Molten. Poured into every inch of his body.

"Yes?"

With clicks seatbelts were off, her own then her reaching for his.

She felt feverish. The back of her neck under his fingers. The lips tantalizingly brushing his.

"Can you find some place to park..?"

_God. Yes. Anything you want._

He tore away from her.

The car whipped off the main road and shot deeper into the city, blazing on down to the end of a narrow old street and under what looked like outcropping. Once a bridge. Growth in structure and foliage both had since remade it into a dead end.

As the engine cut, blued lights dotting the console went out.

They reached for one another. Then they were together finally. Her in his lap. Him shoving her skirt up her hips. Them against each other in every way. Sounds at lips. His growls. Hands all over.

"Put the seat back," she breathed. Caused him to fumble in trying to comply, worked at the closure of his pants.

All the while the sound of them began to fill up the dark cabin. Breaths in huffs. Rustles of clothing. Quick hums. A word here and there. The pin rolling in the buckle of the belt she'd pulled behind him.

His barking her name in surprise.

It was too late to ask how. Why. The both of his wrists were already up and pulled together. His own belt and her handiwork. The bind was hardly unbreakable but—

"Keep them behind the headrest," she purred. Swallowed his questions.

He didn't need to know why. It was in her every feature. Fervent lust. In the wicked smile pulling at her lips when he'd arched under her, after her mouth, in vain when she drew far enough out of reach.

That had been her idea all along. Work at what restraint he still had. What little remained after the restaurant.

She eased against him. Entangled a sigh in with his groan for bare flesh against bare flesh. Little more than muted breaths for her every move. Her every rock against him. Warm. Wet. Just where he needed her.

Almost.

Her thighs quivered at either side of his hips. Her. Grinding. Nails biting at his shoulders where she was steadying herself. He'd see this time.

The way her features shifted in expressions of pleasure.

Her eyes opening at the tremors wavering through her body.

Arms ached not so much for their hold up behind his head but more for wild, unsated desires to touch her. Every part. Sweat-slick gleam of her dark skin.

He remembered her.

Only moments ago.

Notes pouring out of her like a song. A siren's. He wanted nothing more but to hear it again. Pull her against him. Hard. Just to get her loud again where she was painfully quiet and soaking up his every sound. Shameless and many that there were.

She paused. Resumed. Hands easing from their grip at his shoulders as if purposely lax.

And realization hit him in a bolt.

She… was just going to continue until he asked… asked her to…

_No._

He bit off whatever sound would issue when she sat up on her knees, made him miss the feel of her, and set to work on herself, eyes burning into his all the while.

It had never been more unnecessary. More torture. Watching her. Pull off the borrowed shirt and cast it aside to expose her shoulders, the delicate rise down from her collar to her breasts. Of course, her hands went to the line of hooks down her back.

"Ishizu," he snapped.

_Stop._

She took her time and watched his expressions change all the while. Expectant. Anguished. The dark fabric was put aside as well and he was left to stare. Remember the indescribable softness in his hands. Just that morning. The leather wrapped around his wrists was suddenly too rough. All he wanted was to just touch her. Everywhere he  _knew_ he could make her moan. Tremble. Abandon this little game.

And then she reached towards herself. His words came out in a hiss.

"Don't you dare."

Relief was wiped away in the next moment.

"You're right… I can do better."

Atop him, she leaned and took hold of his jaw, keeping him from turning his head away as her lips touched his ear. Just a brush had him shuddering under her. Body wracked with heat in waves. Each new washing over. Eating away resolve. Like acid. Quicker now, her murmurs at his ear. Into his senses.

"What do you want me to do?"

Voice like silk and wrapping tight around him. Trying to coax the answer out in between ribbons.

As if she didn't know. Didn't feel him pulsing under her.

All of him.

Rises of pleasure. Anger. Everything in each heartbeat. It was aching. Desire for and against. Her fingers dragging down his chest. Pressing. Between the both of them. Around him.

He'd bitten his tongue.

"I know you've been thinking about it all day… What it feels like."

Just to remind, her fingers rolled rhythmically around him, invoking a gasp and shudder at once.

She let his jaw free and in that way he would see. Watch her sit up again. Lowering just enough to touch. Barely. A kiss to soft petals when he wanted anything but. As did she, her eyes raking hungrily over his arms. The most perverse kind of glee tugged her lips into a smile in seeing. What light filtered through fogged windows. Danced with shadow across straining around still bound.

"Is this where you want to be..?" she breathed.

There.

Within her.

The words came tumbling up from his chest with a frustrated groan.

"Yes…  _Please_."

She let him go and reached up to untwist the belt from around his wrists.

And he seized upon her hips.

Invaded.

Startling pleasure and bliss in new waves. All of her. Trembling around him.

The softest of smiles gracing her lips when he reached up to pull her hair all to one shoulder. Bury his hands in it and pull her close. Pull her face to his. For a moment partaking in something almost tender.

Then she drew back slowly and shut her eyes.

Moved.

Let him move with her.

Ever faster in lurid rhythm until it fell. Began to break apart under the weight of everything. Fire overtaking. part by apart overhead with each falling. Inflamed. Collapsing from the inside out.

Like flickers, she felt him within.

Her hands flew aside to plastic and leather. Clawing. Seeking anchor. Quivering when he ended impassioned exploration and gripped her hips. Pulled her down against him a last time. Gave in.

Both of them.

Willingly cast into heat. Its outpour. Its rocketing up. Out. Celestial flames stripping across the night sky. Bliss like stars blinking out slowly one by one. Trailing across skin.

Their breaths were the only sound for some time, her laying against him and him not having a mind to move her anytime soon. In that way she moved from him carefully back into her own seat to pull clothing back on, motions unhurried amidst fading afterglow as were his.

It was him that offered an open hand first. And she took it and stared at the entwinement all the way back to the house.

Garage door rumbling closed behind them, he'd noted where her gaze had been.

"Something wrong?"

"No."

* * *

He must have supposed she'd wanted her hands busy.

Little else could explain the box she'd found in her purse.

Curious, she'd pushed her bag aside and sat, turning it over in her hands and eyeing the squares on every side. She pushed at a corner and a distracted smile surfaced on her face when it slid.

So it was a puzzle…

Her gaze drifted to the half-closed window, dark of the night visible. He must be making coffee by now. Waiting for her to call. Say she'd made it safely.

The gentle voice of the attendant made her jump.

"Please stow your bag under the seat in front of you."

She did so and reached for it hastily just moments later.

Bodies crowded in the aisle, weary travelers forcing themselves up and around each other. Collecting items. Every so slowly trailing out.

All the while she sat with the cube, pressing pieces idly this way and that.

Were the colours supposed to match..?

Her brow furrowed in concentration as she continued. Fingers at one corner then another.

She huffed at it, thinking she would hear the smirk in his voice later through the phone, calm as he explained whatever trick there was to this blasted thing.

No. Not this time, she vowed.

A voice above her. "Miss, all passengers must exit the plane…"

"Give me a moment," Ishizu returned.

Suddenly her fingers were quick as she began to figure it out. Pushing part by part…. In just the right order…

"That can't be right."

She turned the piece to look at it, the corners seeming odd sticking out like that now.

"I believe these open," the attendant rushed, evidently having watched in earnest.

Pinching at the thing carefully, Ishizu was surprised to see it did give, one side detaching entirely.

And just inside was a crumpled bit of what looked like satin. She tugged it out slowly, warmth rising to her cheeks while nerves rattled her heart with tentative embarrassment. After all, he wasn't one for propriety necessarily.

_Gods if this is a blindfold and he didn't warm me…_

She swallowed, imagining he'd somehow beat her there. Eyes agleam with amusement as he collected her from the airport and whisked her away. Hand firm on her hip, lips at her ear with whispers about this exact bit of fabric…

Something tumbled into the box with an audible ping.

"Oh my…"

There wasn't a single god to credit for all enveloping her heart then at the sight before her.

Surprise.

Euphoria.

Each in a vibrant colour. Faint red. Pale gold. Dots of blue.

Jubilant laughter while she blinked away warm tears.

There between her fingers.

A thin band spreading and shaped into tiny, perfect buds and blooms, petals wrapped about glittering stones.

"Seto, you moron…" she whispered.

Of course he wouldn't be there to give it to her. He was too fearful.

She heard it in the shaking exhale issuing from the other side of the phone.

"Well..?" His voice strained in a single word.

And then, she couldn't speak.

Too many words crowding in her mouth.

She was nodding before she remembered he wouldn't know.

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The box is a karakuri puzzle box purposely told vague to make you guys think it was a rubik's or something. I'm not sure if I pulled it off but there you go… I've been in love with this whole story all through really, thank you for reading along.


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